


Brick by Brick

by strawberriesandtophats



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Burnout recovery, Curtain Fic, Gen, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Compliant, Humor, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slice of Life, of sorts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-01-31 20:30:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18598867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberriesandtophats/pseuds/strawberriesandtophats
Summary: “Why do you think I’d take your advice?” Harry asked, burning his mouth by gulping down his tea.“Because you’ve got to have a backup plan for when you can’t go out running after criminals any longer,” Draco said, sipping his tea with the manner of a young man lounging at a café in the springtime. “And because our sons are in love with each other.”Harry blinked.“What?” he said.





	1. Chapter 1

The  Auror team edged towards Draco Malfoy as if he was an angry hippogriff that was not to be trusted and always ready to claw your eyes out at a moments notice. It was a quiet morning at the Ministry of Magic and Draco had gone to far too many meetings already, signing papers and handing over repaired artifacts that he’d fixed for various departments.

“I’m sorry to interrupt you, Mr. Malfoy,” one of the younger Aurors said, putting on a brave face. “But we were wondering if we could have a moment of your time?”

Draco Malfoy wanted to say no. There were potions for Astoria that he had to check when he got home, delicate herbs that had to be added to them at an exact time and a hundred other things to do today. But the last time he’d seen that expression on someone’s face was during the war.

He turned around so that his silver trimmed robes slid across the floor with an expensive rustle.

“It’s just that…you knew Harry Potter when you were at Hogwarts,” the Auror continued.

“This is a well-documented historical fact,” Draco said, stifling the urge to ask if they could bother someone else that had known Potter at Hogwarts and at least had a different kind of history with him. Preferably the sort that didn’t involve Voldemort.

The group had a desperate look about them, lowering their eyes or clenching their jaws. They must have asked everyone else they dared to approach and been rejected. Still, most of them had to be fully trained or at least in the process of becoming Aurors. They shouldn’t have to look at him like he was going to dock points of their House if they came close. Or as if he was going to curse them.

Hadn’t he spent all his time since the War ended doing his best to undo what damage he could?

They lead him into a seemingly abandoned office. A small ferret was dozing in a basket in the corner and the faded carpet was dusty. Draco stared at the ferret, internally shaking off memories of flying through the air.

 “He’s acting strange,” another Auror said, back straight and eyes flickering all over the place. “Sneaking around and writing down notes all the time.”

Draco could be measuring dried snowdrop petals at the local wizard farmer’s market or having a cup of tea at home by now. He could be deep-conditioning his hair, even.

But whenever Potter’s life went awry, his always did too. That was the story of his life.

 So, he stayed where he was.

“And then there is the muttering,” the first Auror said. “He set a pair of mustard-colored socks he found in his desk on fire the other day.”

“That’s normal behavior,” Draco said. “Potter is a man that is happiest when he’s just sensed that someone’s out to kill him and he needs to find out what’s causing it. He’s so used to being in trouble that it comforts him.”

“He sleeps with his eyes open while leaning against a wall while on stakeouts,” an Auror said, opening the door and stomping towards Potter’s office. “Just take a look for us, please?”

“Fine,” Draco said.

Draco didn’t knock. He just opened the door to Potter’s office and walked right in.

Potter was sleeping with his head on his horribly messy desk, snoring with his eyes open and staring at the door.

Well, that wasn’t unnerving at all.

Potter didn’t wake up until Draco had transfigured some wood shavings on the floor into elegant spice racks and was nailing them to the walls.

“What is going on?!” Harry asked, sitting up and grabbing the edge of the desk, which was now much tidier than it had been two minutes ago. “Draco? What are you doing in my office?”

Draco glanced at him to make sure that there was no wand pointed at him, which was indeed true. Potter hadn’t even grabbed his table lamp in order to throw it at Draco’s head. That was a new level of exhaustion, right there.

Draco had stacked all those files into a neat heap, transfigured some broken quills into some ‘in’ and ‘out’ trays. Now he was arranging the standard healing potions on the spice racks. Aurors got hurt on the job, after all. Better to have those potions around rather than visiting St. Mungo’s every week for minor things.

“Working,” Draco said, inspecting the lilac liquid that should have been dark purple if it was to be more effective in healing bruises. “Do you know what office supplies are, Potter?”

 Potter working in a neat office, Draco had reasoned, meant that he’d be less distracted by his own mess and therefore quicker to solve whatever problem he was dealing with. If that meant that Draco was currently throwing out dead plants and poking around uncorking unlabeled bottles so that he could live his life in peace, then so be it.

“You came in here to judge my potions?” Potter said, rubbing his eyes and almost dropping his glasses on the floor. Then he looked around his office, even scanning the air as if he was looking for flying paper birds. “And to re-decorate my office?”

“It’s my sole goal in life,” Draco said, leaving behind a tiny bottle of Draught of Peace on one of the spice racks. “Try not to die on the job, would you?”

“What?” Potter said, clearly still half-asleep.

“My son likes your son,” Draco explained very slowly as if he was speaking to a tiny child, knowing that it would annoy Potter since the boys had been friends for years now. He was rewarded with Potter making a face and crossing his arms. “You dying on the job would make him unhappy which in turn would make mine miserable. So.”

“Goodbye, Malfoy,” Potter said, grabbing the nearest file and opening it upside down.

Draco Malfoy left the office, was greeted with the sight of a bunch of Aurors giving him the thumbs up and just kept walking until he found himself in front of the fireplaces that would bring him home.

 


	2. Chapter 2

“I think you should take that offer of a position at Hogwarts,” Draco Malfoy said, having appeared in Harry Potter’s office like a bad penny. He was holding a teacup that undoubtedly cost more than everything in the room combined. And his hair looked perfect.

He’d refused the tea Harry had offered to pour for him, instead he’d pulled a teapot out of his robes and done it himself. The teapot was currently floating in the air, mocking Harry’s sturdy furniture with how delicate it looked.

Seeing his smug face made Harry feel like he was thirteen years old and ready to throw down in a matter of seconds. 

The letter from Hogwarts had been on his desk for a week now, unopened. Trying to hide it underneath anything at all didn’t work, because the damn thing floated on top of whatever pile he’d put it under. It had even escaped his locked desk drawer.

“Why do you think I’d take your advice?” Harry asked, burning his mouth by gulping down his tea.

“Because you’ve got to have a backup plan for when you can’t go out running after criminals any longer,” Draco said, sipping his tea with the manner of a young man lounging at a café in the springtime. “And because our sons are in love with each other.”

Harry blinked.

“What?” he said.

“Spending time denying it would just be a waste of time and you know it,” Draco said. “We have got to be prepared for this. That means you not dying on the job.”

Harry stared.

“Look,” Draco said, looking at Harry as if he was fighting the urge to pour the contents of his teapot over his head. “I know that we’ve seen first-hand that the Defense against the Dark Arts teachers didn’t have a high life expectancy overall but you could keep an eye on the boys-“

“I’m not going to just-“ Harry began.

“Yes, you are,” Draco said. “You are going to start making lesson plans in your head and stockpile even more textbooks about the history of dark magic and dueling than you already do.”

“Just because our sons are dating does not mean that I should uproot my entire life,” Harry managed. “I’ve got paperwork to go through and documents to sign, so if you could get this over with, I’d appreciate it.”

“Just think about how much fun it would be to be the Head of Gryffindor,” Draco said, leaning against the chair and looking like a damned painting in a museum. “You can’t even be bothered to read your own paperwork in this job. Doesn’t it sound better to delegate by making others write essays?”

“You are just saying that because you’ve been teaching a few Potions classes here and there,” Harry said. “And you love taking points and messing with the kids.”

“I brought Astoria some risalamande with raspberries the other day and it made her day,” Draco bragged. “Besides, the view of the castle at dawn is quite spectacular.”

“Fine,” Harry said, already imagining what it would be like to stay at Hogwarts for even just a week, just to test things out.  “I’ll consider it.”

“Excellent,” Draco said, making a face as if he’d already won the war and then tried to cover it up with his teacup.

“Being away from all this might be good,” Harry ventured. “I won’t have the feeling that I’m still at war.”

The flashbacks and dreams might stop if he wasn’t reminded of their roots every few days. Most of his past was written down in history books by now, but familiar names popped up in his paperwork all the time.

Being at Hogwarts might make him feel safe, for once.

“Instead you’ll be teaching the next generations how to prevent another Dark Lord surfacing and how to deal with other people attacking you.”

“If you don’t stop talking right now,” Harry said. “I will bring you in as someone to show the kids how a magical duel should go.”

“Fine,” Draco said, putting his teapot in his pocket. “I’ll win. Tell everyone your archenemy is coming to kick your ass in front of them.”

“You aren’t my archenemy,” Harry said, standing up and hurrying towards him as Draco swung open the door with an insufferable glint in his eye.

“Of course, I am, Potter,” Draco said before disappearing into the crowd.

Harry stood alone in his office for a long while, breathing in the scent of expensive tea and then turning around to deal with far too much paperwork for his liking.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry Potter was breathing properly, his shoulders relaxed as he sped through the halls in Hogwarts, leaving behind a group of awed students. He’d just finished teaching the first two classes on basic shield charms, according to the gossip Draco had overheard from his own son.

Ah, it was good to have such good information from someone who’d experienced it first-hand. Scorpius was so pleased about having his father around that it took no time at all to get him to talk about Potter’s classes. It was nice to feel appreciated at work and to have some father-son time.

The last time he’d seen Potter behaving like this had been when he’d been in the middle of a Quidditch game during their third year. When they’d still been kids and war hadn’t loomed over them like a troll.

It was easy to catch up with him, taking his place beside Potter before he’d slip back into the Auror mindset of continuing to work despite the pain and lack of sleep and care. Potter was still wearing barely acceptable black formal robes that would become shabby in a few months if that instead of his Auror robes. Potter never noticed when his clothes became worse for wear in general unless they were covered in blood.

Draco Malfoy did not ask: Why was Harry Potter like this?

Because his knowledge of Harry Potter after years of watching him flinching at the sound of rattling keys and avoiding dark places was nothing short of terrifyingly accurate.

Aurors weren’t supposed to show fear.

But teachers could.

Dumbledore hadn’t just kept Potter away from the Muggle world. He’d made sure that Potter would have very sharp senses when it came to threats and danger and when something was off. That was not an environment that a kid had a good time growing up in, meaning that when the time came to leave, he’d do so without so much as a look back.

Had anyone offered him any kind of trauma counseling at St. Mungos after the war was over?

Definitely not, if the man was still this jumpy. Better to let Potter brush them off and launch him towards Auror training to take care of what remained of Voldemort’s supporters. That was the sort of thinking that got things done, even if the tools used would not survive the wear and tear.

“Are you going to teach them about Boggarts next?” Draco asked, not bothering to greet Potter. “Lock one up in a wardrobe and make everyone think of something funny?”

At least Scorpius wouldn’t worry about his father stepping out of that wardrobe. Or Voldemort.

Draco knew exactly what he would see and so did Potter, if the split-second frown on his face was anything to go by. Students passed by, staring at them as if they were wondering if there was going to be a duel happening in a few seconds.

“Maybe later,” Potter said, clearly before he could stop himself. “I was thinking about teaching them to throw snakes at their opponents.”

“No uncontrollable tapdancing?” Draco asked. “Or maybe how to make lightning appear from a clear sky to alarm a whole host of enemies?”

“Maybe you should be teaching that class,” Potter said, shooting him a glance that was about as hostile as one from a first year. Draco tried not to be delighted.

“I enjoy making sure that children know how to cut their ingredients properly and not to set the whole castle on fire every week,” Draco said. “Besides, Scorpius told me that you hinted at staying for the whole semester during class. Soon you’ll refuse to leave at all.”

“All according to your plan,” Potter said with a huff.

“My plan involves you not being dead,” Draco replied. “I can’t see why you are complaining.”

“I will kidnap you from your own class if it overlaps with my class on one-on-one duels,” Potter said. “Don’t you think you’ll get out of it.”

“I can’t believe that Lockheart thought he could take on a former Death Eater,” Draco mused, thinking of the layer of makeup he put over the tattoo on the bad days where he’d woken up curled up on the bed on sweat-soaked sheets. “Especially if that person was Snape.”

“Hm,” Potter said. “I can’t believe that Dumbledore thought it was even an option to hire Lockheart.”

“Throwing all those students’ education to the dogs for a whole year just so he could make a point?” Draco asked, shrugging. “He did have a good fashion sense, though.”

“Fashion does not help you in life-threatening situations,” Potter countered. “And your padded dragon-hide gloves do not count!”

“You are only saying that because you wear a series of faded robes designed to allow you to hide in shadows and run across rooftops in the middle of the night,” Draco said, gesturing at Potter’s robes. “Do you even own any dress robes?”

“Of course,” Potter said, seemingly crushing the urge to either start shouting or getting his wand.

“Not the ones you wear to funerals-“ Draco insisted, internally horrified at the realization that no one had ever taken Potter to a proper tailor in order to fill his wardrobe with timeless robes and a sprinkle or two of something fashionable. He was looking at a man who had work robes, Muggle clothes that he wore at home, everyday robes and then somber-looking robes.

“I have others!” Potter said, drawing a crowd of alarmed students.

“Good,” Draco said. “That is a start.”

“What?” Potter asked, looking baffled.

“If our kids are going to do this long-term, it is useful for me to know that you are still willing to fight anybody at all on the drop of a hat and do own a pair of decent dress robes,” Draco said. “Astoria will be so pleased that she was right about that.”

“Don’t tell me that you are making more plans, Draco,” Potter said. “I’ve got enough on my plate as it is.”

“Which is why you will be so happy to find out that other people than you are making those plans,” Draco replied, lingering in a doorway.

“My plans involve grading everything I can find and then going to sleep,” Potter said, clearly still cross. “You just-“

“I’ll deal with the rest of it, yes, yes,” Draco said, listening to Potter stomp away.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

“If you don’t remind him to eat when he’s ears-deep in work, he’ll forget,” Ginny told Draco, who’d accompanied Astoria on a social visit to the Potter’s house. “Having set mealtimes helps, but it’s something to remember.”

“Throwing fruit at him in the staff room helps,” Draco said, sipping coffee while Astoria poured herself a glass of water from a decanter. “And shoving orange juice into his hands.”

“You do that?” Ginny asked. “I thought he was joking when he told me about that.”

“Somebody has to do it,” Draco said. “I saw Professor McGonagall sitting him down for a biscuit earlier this month and Hagrid inviting him to tea on Monday. He spends all his time training the students in how to deal with loose trolls and dementors and forgets everything else-“

“So, it’s not that he can’t do these things,” Astoria said, shaking her head. “But that he’s just horrible at them.”

“I’m not sure that he ate any more than I did during sixth year,” Draco said. “But that is what happens when Dumbledore is actively dying on you and there is a Dark Lord whose life goal is to hunt you down to kill you.”

“At least he’s not working two jobs anymore,” Astoria said. “Or frightening his coworkers by sleeping with his eyes open and muttering all the time.”

Draco nodded, remembering how he’d seen Professor McGonagall throw out two Aurors out of the castle when they’d come looking for Harry to ask him to join them again. Not that Potter ever stopped suspecting that someone out there was planning on killing him or hurting the kids, but that just made him teach them about disarming spells early on and how to wrestle someone to the ground the Muggle way.

“He was pretty stoked when I showed up to show the Gryffindor team some moves on Monday,” Ginny said.

“Wasn’t that when you stole him away for the evening?” Astoria asked. “Scorpius told me that you threw a broom at him and flew away together.”

“Gotta get some light back in those eyes,” Ginny said grimly. “I dove to catch him when he’d fallen off the broom and you should have seen the look on his face when I grabbed his hand.”

“I’d have paid for that,” Astoria said. “I got a letter from Luna saying that she’s going to bring some creatures she’s discovered to Harry’s class for the first years. They make an unholy amount of noise and look like bright pink sloths, she says.”

“Aren’t they the ones that will only leave their tree to dig for golden truffles?” Draco asked. “And will fight anyone who tries to stop them from eating said truffles?”

“That’s them,” Ginny said. “Apparently you’ve got to grab them by the scruff of the neck and then rock them back and forth like they’re babies for them to calm down.”

“Scorpius is going to be beside himself with joy when he sees them,” Astoria said. “He’s going to break into the classroom before class, with Albus in tow.”

“He’s told you that he’s already planning this?” Ginny asked.

“No,” Astoria said, finishing her water and immediately pouring herself a new glass. “But I know how I raised that boy.”

“Indeed,” Draco said, leaning back in his chair. “I managed to convince him to put all of Potter’s new robes into his closet in his quarters by giving him a handful of truffles.”

“I want a photograph of them both holding those creatures hanging in my living room,” Ginny said. “I’ll spend the rest of my life seeing the expression on the clerk’s face in the shop when we all came in and bought half the robes in the place, with Draco making faces at everything that had a hint of red-“

“We’ll enlarge that photograph for their wedding,” Astoria said, clinking her glass against Ginny and Draco’s cups.


End file.
